That Wintry Afternoon
by Invader Mel
Summary: The winner of a poetry contest comes to read her poem, but she is ridiculed, and it is up to Dib to save her life. But when he is in danger, will she manage to save him?


NOTE: It's pretty angsty toward the end...sorry...I apologize in advance.

Chapter One: Auditorium Guest—Dib's POV

     Today the principal announced over the intercom that we would have a guest to visit our skool—that didn't particularly catch my attention, for most guests are guys who work at weenie stands—and that she was the winner of a poetry contest. Before I knew it, we were seated, watching the stage in anticipation of what we were going to be shown. I exchanged my customary glares with Zim, mumbled and insult, and sat as the room quieted and the lights dimmed. The spotlight was placed on a solitary microphone in the center, the metal stand reflecting the dim light and shone in the wintry air. A light snow began to fall, and I wondered if we might be snowed in. I hoped not, but then again, it might give me an extra opportunity to expose Zim as the alien menace he is.

     The shadows seemed nearly palpable; the sweet smell of cinnamon almost tangible, and I couldn't help but admire the very concept of winter. Soon, a girl with short, brown hair with hints of red fused with every strand and bright, green eyes stepped up to the microphone. She was of average height and couldn't be any older than me. Considering the chilly weather, she looked like she'd be cold, for she wore only a long-sleeved black shirt and black pants without any kind of coat or sweater to protect her from the elements. Tapping the microphone, she cleared her throat and spoke.

     "Hello, ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself. I was the winner of last year's poetry contest, a nationwide event, and I personally come from Oregon. My name is Rachel Vine, and I would like to read my winning poem. First of all, however, I'd like to discuss my motivations for writing my piece.

     "I'm teased a lot because I am not mindless like my peers. I think. They don't like me for this, but their abuse has brought out the best of me, and in this way, they do not win. As a matter of fact, _I_ won—first prize, 4,000 dollars cash prize, that is. This poem is my reflections on what they've done to me and how I've overcome it. It is fittingly called 'Winter Musings.'

     "In this biting cold,

     "I cannot picture,

     "I cannot see,

     "How life on Earth may unfold,

     "I'll never come close to being sure,

     "In what way I perceive reality,

     "A taunt is an echo,

     "An insult a death eternal,

     "How can this be so?

     "In my life,

     "This forever inferno." She paused a bit, closed her eyes, and appeared to fight back some tears. "Thank you." No applause. I thought that maybe some of the slow-witted children in my skool just weren't aware that it was over. I was wrong. A paper airplane took flight, landing at her feet. As though it was a practiced motion, she pushed it aside with her right foot.

     "That stunk!" one kid shouted.

     "That poem was gay!"

     "You suck!" I couldn't believe this. Here a girl had poured her heart into a poem about her suffering at the hands of ignorance, and these children were ruthlessly attacking her, insulting her, showing no compassion for her pain. By now, the entire cafeteria was in an uproar, stomping and shouting in unison those two same words—'you suck.'

     Her hands covering her ears, she began to shout, "I don't care! Your words don't affect me anymore! It doesn't matter! I don't care about your opinions! It's not working!" But, as tears streamed from her eyes, I could tell that it _was _affecting her, deeply. The kids continued to chant those words, and when she couldn't take any more of it, Rachel took off and ran backstage. This triggered an embedded hatred for these kids, and I couldn't keep my anger inside.

     "What's wrong with you?!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. They stopped their petty laughter at this. "Don't you realize what she just said?! She just said that her life stinks—because of people like you!"

     "So?" Torque asked.

     "So?! So you just caused her to break down on stage!"

     "Yeah, well, why should you care?"

     "Because she's a _human being_! Unlike Zim, she is a _human being_, and she deserves respect, just like the rest of us!"

     "She's different, though. She's a dork. And a nerd." Fuming, I glared intensely at the bully with the same intensity I glare at Zim with. Unable to control and contain my emotions any longer, I balled my hand into a fist, drew my arm back, and swung my fist into his face, all in one motion. That was harder than I had ever hit anyone in my life. Actually, it was the _first_ time I had really tried to hurt someone other than Zim. He was unconscious.

     Breathing a breath of awe at my accomplishment, I jumped over the fallen Torque and headed backstage. In a triumphant mood, I felt I could do anything. I was, indeed, needed for far more than I expected.

     Backstage, Rachel was nowhere to be found, so I called her name. No response. Seeing a nearby door slightly ajar, I pushed it open with great difficulty, for the winds were increasing in strength. I called her name once more, this time louder so I could be heard over the winds.

     "Rachel! Rachel! Do you hear me? I stood up to some of the kids for you! It's okay! I think they've stopped now! Rachel?" Closing the door behind me, I stepped out into the snow. It was a little cold, so I pulled both ends of my trench coat together. Standing in the snow, I heard a faint voice whispering in monotone. "Rachel, is that you?" The whispering stopped. Peering around the corner, I saw her, standing, her eyes closed. "What's wrong?"

     "Everything. My life is over." Out of her backpack, she slipped a small, obscure, pocketknife. The blade gleamed in the dreary light, and she pressed it slightly to her wrist.

     "Rachel, no!"

     "Why? There's nothing in store for me. No friends, no love, no life."

     "There is something to live for."

     "What? If life is so precious, then tell me about it."

     "Believe it or not, some people understand."

     "And I suppose _you_ understand?"

     "Yes."

     "You could never know. You could die a hundred painful deaths and not know my agony."

     "Don't give up. The world could use more people like you."

     "Thanks. I guess I am overdoing it." Then, I saw something wonderful. She smiled at me. I actually succeeded in improving someone's life, and even saving it.

     "What was that you were saying?"

     "Oh, that. I was praying. I thought it was my last moment on Earth, and I wanted to pray."

     "I've felt near death before."

     "Really?"

     "Yeah. Call me crazy, but there's an alien in my class after world domination, and...well, I'd rather you DON'T call me crazy, but a lot of people do, so I was thinking that you might too..."

     "I don't think you're crazy."

     "What? You don't?"

     "Of course not. After all, truth is stranger than fiction, so often the most unlikely scenario ends up being the most probable." I couldn't help my excitement at meeting someone who's potentially my intellectual equal.

     "Wow...no one's ever believed me before."

     "It's too bad that we won't ever be able to see each other when I go back to Oregon. You seem like a nice kid."

     "Thanks..." I looked down at my feet, or rather, at the snow that covered my feet. "You too."

     "Say, do you have e-mail?"

     "E-mail? Yes! Yeah, I do."

     "What's your address?"

     "Uh...Mothman@SEN.net"

     "Does 'SEN' happen to stand for 'Swollen Eyeball Network'?"

     "Yes. Are you a member?"

     "No, but I've heard of it...I'll think about joining if you give me a good reference to it, though. You can send me more information about it to PoetryLover@earthlink.net."

     "I think I will. I'll be in contact with you."

     "Me too."

     "Oh, and by the way, my name's Dib."

     "That'll be good to know, Dib. Thanks for saving my life. You're my real-life hero." I grinned from ear to ear, and she smiled too. "I think I'll go back on stage and tell those kids what I _really_ think about them and their comments."

     "Don't bother. We've had our victory. There's no sense in carrying it further."

     "Well...I'll be seeing you."

     "See ya."

     She shook my hand, and when a metallic green car pulled up, she got in, calling out, "Thanks, Dib!"

     "You're welcome, Rachel!" Rolling down the window, she waved back at me, her bright green eyes warming my heart. This poet was my inspiration to go ahead and try to capture Zim again. She reminded me that giving up was not an option...I had to do my duty and save planet Earth from destruction. One day...one day I would be recognized and once more meet this girl whose life I changed, and in turn, changed my life, all for the better. Darting around the corner of the building, I tailed some straggling students and found Zim.

     "What do you want, pitiful human? Did you miss an appointment with Bigfeets or anything else on that stupid paranormal agenda of yours?"

     "Gee, Zim, I didn't know that you could pronounce 'paranormal' correctly. Maybe you're finally growing up."

     "Do not invoke my wrath, pathetic Dib-thing, before I destroy you."

     "No, no, my misguided alien nemesis. I'm afraid you're wrong in that. It is time for you to meet your end."

     "Ha! You do not scare me. I am a superior Irken invader, and you could never defeat me."

     "Are you so sure?" I leapt up, grabbing for the throat, but he escaped from beneath me and my jaw met hard concrete. Propelling myself to my feet and heading forward, I began to chase after him. This was it. I _had_ to kill that Irken, this minute. Something told me I had to. My pace quickening, my heart rate increased, and my breathing accelerated. That alien wouldn't escape this time. No matter what it would take.

************************************************************************

     Rachel sat in the car, when suddenly a pounding headache intruded her thoughts. "Mom..." she said, "Dib's in trouble. I know it."

     "What's a 'dib'?"

     "No, Mom. Not _what_. _Who_."

     "All right, then, _who's_ this Dib?"

     "He's a boy I met at the skool. He seems nice, and we exchanged e-mail addresses."

     "You think you might want to visit him again during summer?"

     "Yeah, I think I will. But Mom, he's in trouble. I can feel it."

     "We can't turn back, though. Our flight back to Oregon in nonrefundable. We _have_ to take it."

     "But Mom, Dib's in trouble! Serious trouble! We've got to help him!"

     "I'm sure it's just your imagination acting up."

     "No, I'm sure it isn't! He saved my life, so I should save his!"

     "He saved your life? What went on in that skool?"

     "The kids drove me out of the auditorium and he stood up for me and saved me from suicide."

     "Don't you ever consider that!" Pulling over, she led Rachel back to the skool on foot. "Your life is valuable! Just because other kids don't understand that doesn't mean you should kill yourself!"

     "I know that, Mom, thanks to Dib."

     "I owe him a favor, then. Now, where would he be?"  
     "Probably on his way to class now."

     "Then that's where we're going." Walking through the snow, they entered through the main entrance and searched the halls for his classroom.

************************************************************************

     I had been running after Zim for a while, and found myself in the parking lot, a place void of activity, normal or otherwise. After a minute or so of scanning the area for any trace of the alien invader, I felt a push to my back as I was thrust forth. Hitting the asphalt with full force, I could taste warm blood seeping out my mouth, and I figured I'd probably knocked out a tooth, at least. My glasses were scratched across the front and broken in half at the bridge of my nose. Even if they were in one piece, I wouldn't be able to see out of them.

     The sound of a truck going in reverse resounded in my ears. It was to the right of me, but I couldn't tell how far off. The truck was much closer than I suspected, and as I got up and picked up the remains of my glasses, the edge of the truck collided with my ribs and knocked me to the ground. Realizing what had happened, the driver sped forth, shooting ice and exhaust in my face.

     In terrible pain, I couldn't move. As the snow fell harder, I felt that I had a tremendous weight of snow piled on me, paralyzing me. Hearing someone's footsteps, I looked up, or tried to, for the moisture on my eyes was freezing my eyelids shut.

     "Dib!" Someone called out my name. Gaz? No, her voice was much different, and she wouldn't care, anyway. Then who? What other female might call my name in concern for me? Rachel. Rachel was going to save me. "Dib!" she cried once more, approaching me with worry-filled eyes. She propped me up against a wall, and soon her mother returns with a warm washcloth, and she rubs my face with it. The warmth feels good on my cold cheeks, and I open my eyes to glimpse her for a moment. As I do this, she squeezes me in a tight embrace, tears dripping off her face and onto mine.

     Though I enjoyed her care for me, I felt that I was going to slip into unconsciousness at any time, and I had a feeling that if I fell unconscious I'd never wake. Rachel held my hand, repeatedly reassuring me that I'd live. I wasn't so sure, but it was comforting all the same. The pain in my side caused by her concern-filled embrace was manageable, and the physical pain was hardly even felt. My awareness slipped away, and I saw every memory I've had flash by me. So this was death. This death is a wonderful sensation. I know that, for once in my life, someone cares. With her at my side, death was pleasure.

     She kissed my cheek, and I smiled, grateful for her presence. I knew I was dying, and she knew it too. Trying to make her last moments with me alive last, she leaned against me and reminisced on her past.

     "You know, Dib," she began, "once I was playing in the snow, and I didn't know how steep it was, so I fell right through. My mom tried to get me out, but she fell too. We laughed and laughed until we could laugh no more. Another time, when I was five, I saw the weirdest looking bird you ever saw. It was bright and rainbow-colored, and I thought I'd discovered a new species. My parents humored me and went along with it, and we talked about what to name it. I came up with a fake scientific name, and it wasn't until a year later I discovered that it was actually a relative of the parrot, and it was a tame bird that had escaped. Dib?" I mumbled, opened my eyes just enough to see her, and closed my eyes again when I grew tired. "You're going to live. I know it."

     "H-h-how?"

     "You saved my life. I'll save yours somehow." She began to cry, just as the paramedics arrived. Loosening her grip on my hand, she finally let go, and I was carted to the emergency room, without her, and I was sure to die. Why they didn't let her come with me, I didn't know. We'd shared an unspoken bond of understanding, and I hoped I could live to see her again. I never did, and I was left to die in peace and hopes unfulfilled on that wintry afternoon.


End file.
